


Small Print

by boopboop



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Misunderstandings, Steve is royally fucked, sam is a terrible friend, what happened in the 40s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boopboop/pseuds/boopboop
Summary: Once upon a time in 1944... aka Steve contemplates the merits of hiding under a desk before Bucky finds out that they are maybe, kinda, just a little bit married.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I am 99.8% certain that this isn't ACTUALLY how International Maritime Law works, let us just suspend belief and enjoy the mental image of giant puppy!Steve trying to hide under furniture while Sam laughs at him.
> 
> I posted this one on tumblr forever ago, but I figured I should maybe stick it up here and pretend I am organized :D

Steve is possibly about to have a nervous breakdown. Sam, miserable bastard that he is, is just laughing at him.

“You’re the worst friend,” Steve says, clutching his knees and assessing with all seriousness if he’ll actually be able to fit into the space underneath Tony’s desk. There’s so much junk under there that with any luck he’ll vanish and never be found.

Captain America might charge into battle with a grim smile on his face, but this is not that. This is so much worse. So yes, damn fucking right he’s hiding. Running away is not an option but if it was he’d be seriously considering it right now. But… that would involve people finding out and possibly _Tony_ finding out, and if there is one way this can get any worse it is if Tony finds out. Tony finding out is almost as bad as Bucky finding out, and practically guaranteed to result in it anyway. 

He’s going under the desk.

“I’m sorry man,” Sam says, lying through his teeth, “I’m not... it’s just… okay look, if you’d told me you and Barnes ran off to Vegas and got yourself hitched by an Elvis impersonator I’d get it. But just. How exactly did you two get _accidentally married_ in 1944? Pretty sure that kind of shit wasn’t legal back then, even in Europe.”

“We were drunk,” Steve says miserably, thinking of the grog they’d drunk and the way it had been brewed in the bathtub of a French brothel. “Or Bucky was drunk at least. I was mostly…. Merry? I guess?”

“Captain America gettin’  _merry_ ,” Sam grins. He holds up his hands and laughs when Steve turns himself around in his ball of misery to glare at him. “Okay, go on.”

Steve thinks back to that night, able to recall every second of it in perfect, crystal clear clarity. Bucky had been so drunk. So, so drunk, and he’d been smiling and laughing and singing and dancing and happy in a way that Steve’d missed so fucking much. He’d grabbed Bucky around the waist, spun him around and then kissed him, right there. In front of their unit. In front of allies and friends and people who didn’t know them any better than what they saw in comics. “He punched me in the jaw,” Steve says ruefully. “Then kissed me back.” Hot and hard and messy and perfect, his hands in the folds of Steve’s uniform. He’d kissed Steve like they were standing in the middle of a hurricane and one wrong step in either direction might kill them.

“Sounds like Barnes,” Sam nods. “But how does that lead to you two getting hitched?”

That’s funny, actually. Somewhat. There had been whoops and cheers and laughter and if anyone cared that Captain America was in love with a man, their friends kept them away and out of sight. All Steve can remember is elation. Joy. And so much love he wanted to explode. And sing. That part was probably the grog. “I told him we were gettin’ married,” Steve says, lost in the memory.

 _“What, right now?”_ Bucky had laughed, clutching at his arm as he wavered on the spot, his eyes bright and his lips red and swollen and-

“I might have kissed him again,” Steve admits to Sam. “And then I told him I loved him and we were gettin’ married and he should just shut up and say yes already.”

 _“Can’t do both, punk,”_ Bucky had grinned, looking up at Steve like he was staring up into the Heavens.

“I picked him up,” Steve explains, “put him over my shoulder and told him to be quiet and then banged his head into the bulkhead by accident.” Bucky had sworn a lot. Lots of swearing and threats and then, explicably, a fit of giggles. “I didn’t mean to!” Steve protests, knowing exactly what Sam’s expression is going to be even without having to look.

“Go back a bit,” Sam stops him. “Bulkhead? You were at sea?”

“I’m getting to that part,” Steve says defensively. “Anyway, so we made it up on deck and I got down on one knee and then Dernier - who was somehow still conscious despite all the brandy -  starts reciting all these wedding rites and then one of the midshipmen produces these legal documents because he was planning on whisking his sweetheart away when he got home and  _everyone was really drunk okay?”_

 _“_ Why was this never part of your HBO series?” Sam is laughing at him. Sam, as previously stated, is the worst friend. “Ok, I get it. You pulled a 40s equivalent of a cheesy rom-com. Still not sure why you’re trying to hide under Stark’s desk.”

Steve waves his arm up in the direction of the text book he’s left on the edge of the work station. The text book he’d read for a nostalgia kick and now wants to burn. There’s silence for a few minutes as Sam reads. Then, “Oh my god, Rogers.”

“I know!” Steve wails.

“Does Barnes?”

“No! And you’re not going to tell him because I will _never_ hear the end of it.”

“Sam’s not going to tell me what?” Bucky’s voice comes from the open doorway and Steve makes a sound like a kitten dying. “What did you do this time, Rogers? Are you hiding under a desk?  _Why_ are you hiding under a desk? What the hell, Steve?”

“He’s feeling bad for accidentally marrying you during the war,” Sam says. Sam is not getting a Christmas card from Steve ever again.

“Really?” Bucky asks. “Aw, come on Steve, that was fun! Okay the hangover sucked and the Coxswain trying to throw me in the Brig for that thing with his underwear wasn’t great but-

“I didn’t know Dernier was actually an ordained minister before he joined the Army!” Steve yells, cutting him up because yes, all those things were fun, lots of fun, this is slightly more serious and now, faced with Bucky, he can’t lie about it or pretend it didn’t happen. Bucky’s trust is too precious to him.

“He was?” Bucky asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” Steve says meekly. “And since we were kinda in International Water when it happened… and we signed that license….”

Bucky says nothing. Bucky says nothing for so long that Steve has to come out of his hiding spot and check on him, a genuine, heartfelt apology on his tongue because sure they’d been mostly joking back then, but it had been a joke with an underlying sense of heartbreak on both their parts that it could never be real. “Bucky, I’m so-“

“We’re married?” Bucky asks, and now Steve is upright and not being a pathetic coward he can see Bucky’s face properly. He doesn’t  _look_  upset. Or angry. But he doesn’t exactly look happy either.

“I’m sorry?” Steve tries, unsure if that’s even going to cut it.

“We’re married, like, _actually_ married?”

“I’m not sure how legally binding the whole thing is but-“ his protest breaks off into a yelp as Bucky crosses the room and grabs Steve by the t-shirt. It’s Steve’s turn to be put over someone’s shoulder and it’s a good thing Bucky’s stronger now than he was back then or they’d both be in an undignified heap on the floor. “Bucky?” Steve asks tentatively. “You’re not going to throw me down the garbage chute are you?”

“I’ve been waiting seventy-five years to consummate a fake marriage. You think I’m waiting another five fucking minutes to seal the deal now it’s real?” He sounds cheerful. Cheerful and a little pissed, which was Bucky’s basic standby all those years they were growing up together. He turns around and bangs Steve’s head off the wall.

“That was on purpose.” Steve accuses, rubbing the sore spot gingerly.

“Yep!” Bucky chirps. “Say goodbye to Sam, Steve. We’re gonna be busy for a while.”

“Bye Sam, you’re the worst friend,” Steve says, waving as awkwardly as he can while hanging over Bucky’s shoulder. Sam flashes him two thumbs up.

“Don’t break the bed!”

 

 


End file.
